Breathing
by ArdentSinner
Summary: Re-posted. An incident during a mission triggers a hitch in Schuldich's telepathy. When the control slips, it's up to Brad to guid him back. Along the way they discover neglected emotions. songfics. BxS. Ratings are a bit higher. Swearing & suicidal.
1. Breathing: Prologue

**.Breathing.**

* * *

** Prologue:**

We had another mission again today. I remembered quite clearly how things went from the briefing session till the real mission. I remembered listening Crawford telling me to shut up and listen.

*****

"Schuldich, shut up for once and listen carefully. You play an important role in this one and if you mess up I will personally screw you up. One of these days this attitude of yours would really be the death of you." Those were the exact words of the stoic leader of team Schwarz. His dark raven-black hair shone beneath the light and his glasses betrayed not the eyes that lay beneath their gleaming surface.

"Why, Bradley…I didn't know you cared," I said to him, blatant and brazen as usual. I added a wink and a flick of my equally brazen red hair to top it off. He merely glared. That had always been the only reaction I'd been able to get out of him lately. Not less and not more.

"I don't. Now stop that and listen," he spoke. My mouth was in position to retort to him but I had caught a sudden change in his voice and for half a second, behind those thin-rimmed glasses, his stone cold sorrel eyes softened. It nearly went by unnoticed. There was barely a hint in his voice that sounded like he was entreating me…almost pleading. At that I did stop and listen.

Later that night at the Mission Location:

The night was still young. Too dangerously young for our mission. I had noticed it from the start (I think Crawford had noticed it as well) but it wasn't important. We are the best and no little mishap like this should slow us down.

We entered swiftly, silently. The building's state of the art security was easily breached and within seconds we were in the main building without the slightest brawl, commotion or chaos. We spread stealthily and covered our grounds. The mission was to rupture the building, collect and terminate all evidence. 

We did as we were told. Once the information was retrieved, we headed for the conference room where all those dirty old bastards lay their dastardly plans and play their pawns. Ironic, isn't it? 

Cornered, they started to cry like wounded animal and little children. Those that were brave and stupid enough (a dangerous combination as Crawford always said) dared to point their weapons and throw threats in our face before Nagi snatched away their toys and slammed them against the wall several times, telekinetically, of course. Now with their little toys taken away, they whimper and beg. Pathetic really. I could just kill them in a blink of an eye just for my satisfaction and actually make the world a better place. But that wasn't the reason I was there. I was to probe their pathetic little mind while Crawford and Nagi downloaded the information. Farfarello was guarding the huddled group in the corner. The Irish lunatic looked as if he was a kid who just received a big new toy for Christmas. 

The fear oozed out like pure sweet honey. It was exciting, just like pure ecstasy most of the time. But lately it disgusts me, especially now. Their minds collapsed completely and I could read everything…just like a book. All their fears and all their past sins flash through my mind. Rape, manipulations, assassination, treason… I saw everything, everything there right in front of me. I could hold on much longer. I was told not to do any harm but I couldn't help it. I lost my control and fried the mind I was prying. Somehow it felt right. Right as rain.

Somehow while Farfarello was busy with his beloved knives, a lady managed to slip away. She managed to sound the alarm button under one of the tables. The beacon blared and rang loud, right above my head. My concentration snapped and all the energy I released bounced off. Nagi lost control of his focus and his barrier shattered, bounced off the walls and hit me square on the head, hard. When Nagi's barrier broke, all the frightened little 'animals' ran off in every direction to escape their 'hunters'. Before they managed to get far, they were slammed against the wall again and trapped once again in the telekinetic barrier. 

I managed to recover quickly. I re-positioned myself and re-arranged all of their memories and thoughts. Some were unfortunate enough to get their brains fried. Minutes later, the main entrance was bursting with security guards. I stood in front of the door and forced them back mentally while Nagi tried to push them out with his powers. 

I could hear Nagi yelling to Crawford but I couldn't focus myself. I was to warped in my state of concentration. Half a moment later, I could swear I felt my feet left the ground, a jump and followed by a long fast fall. Reality slapped me in the face when I felt myself submerged in ice-cold water. I looked around to see a very pale Nagi flailing around in the water with Farfie on is side, approaching me. I heard gurgling noised and I turned to look behind me. 

Crawford was sputtering for breath as he clung on my waist and pushed me upwards, trying to keep me from drowning. That's when I realized that we had just jumped out of the 20th floor of the tall building right into the lake outside. A loud explosion blew the 20th floor to pieces. I paddled my hands slowly and took a role reversal. I dragged him out of the water with Farfie and Nagi on my tail. 

It was once I had managed to drag Crawford out did I realized his left hand was grasping tightly a heavy metal suitcase. He looked pale under the light moonlight, almost angelic. I almost didn't want to wake him but I only had to shake him a few time to revive him. He stared right into my eyes and told me to help him up. I did. Gladly. 

We returned to headquarters and deposited our information. Takatori didn't appreciate the blow up that happened. A meeting was called for. We were to assemble in the meeting room except for Nagi who was excused. Though he was given leave, he refused to go and stayed by my side with us. I nearly think that the kid actually cares about me, or at the least, likes me.

Farfello sat in the corner, oblivious to the people in the room. His attention was fully on the knife he had in his hands. Nagi stood beside me but Crawford pushed him behind us in an almost protective fashion. He may deny it but he felt fraternally close to the brat. Nagi disagreed and tried to slip between us again. I understood what Crawford felt and I placed my hand on the boy's chest and looked down, weariness obvious in my eyes, pleading him to understand. He understood and retreated.

Takatori stood superiorly at the end of his table. In his hand was a shiny metal piece. He approached us with the saunter of a predatory animal eyeing its prey. He's a fucking old bastard. 

"What happened?!" his guttural voice boomed out, oozing with supremacy, leisurely tapping the metal head of the gold club against his palm. "Who messed up?"

"I…I …," Nagi's soft voice was barely audible. Before he could do more damage, I spoke to him telepathically. _Shh…be quiet, brat. We'll handle this. _He looked up surprised. I only managed a little smile to comfort him.

"WELL?!! Speak up!" he demanded.

"No one messed up. The time you suggested was inappropriate. That's all," I said casually leaning to the side and squeezing the water out of my hair

"I messed up Takatori-san. It was my mistake," Crawford spoke as a-matter-of-factly. He was calm even if he was drenched from head to toe. I could barely contain my shock. He never took blame. Not for anyone. It was usually I who always took the blame for little Nagi.

"It was God's fault," Farfie spoke breaking his silent observation from his corner.  "HE made us blind for a moment."

"Very well…" he said approaching us. "If you're not telling me, then I'll just have to teach all of you a lesson."

He swung once at Crawford. The club whizzed past his head and returned to his stomach. Nagi watched with horror in his eyes. His mask did well to hide all his emotions. He was cemented to the floor before he was pushed aside by Crawford. Takatori stood up and stared up at Crawford warningly. 

"I hate to have to beat you up…you are after all my right-hand man. Next time don't mess up." With that he turned to me. 

"And you, my sweet…" he said menacingly. A disgusting smirk was on his face. 

With every step he took I knew what was going to happen. The next moment I felt cold hard steel bashing my jaw. First my mid-section then my arms, my legs and my head again and again. I saw red…a lot of red, the carpeting, my hair and my blood, all mingling together on the wide bloody surface. I felt numb and wet on the fluffy blood red carpet beneath me. I began to get flashes again. After a while, I only saw black.  

He hated me for killing his beloved daughter and he hates me more than he hates the Weiss, who killed his sons. He hated me because I refused him a few years back. He hated me because I fought him when he tried to rape me then. He despises me for hating him still. 

I thought I had blackened out but I realize that I could hear Crawford's voice. It sounded like he was asking for that prick to excuse us. He gave in eventually for he loved that bastard leader of ours. I opened my eyes again to see Crawford carrying me out of the office in his arms. Sure I'd have fantasized about it before but not like this. What the hell am I saying! Those hits must have damaged my brain. 

Once we got to the car, Farfie entered wordlessly and sat quietly while little Nagi held the door open for me. Crawford lowered me onto the seat, Nagi got in and perched my head on his shoulder. Crawford drove fast and furiously. Nagi let his mask fall and looked at me with concern. 

"I'm fine, brat! It takes more than a golf club to kill me," I said patting his head. He was after all, still a teenager beneath that entire hard years-refined exterior. 

"But why just you?" he asked.

"Because he and I have a past grudge that he wont let go," I said simply. 

I saw Nagi looked at Crawford questioningly through the back view mirror. He looked at me for an instant as if he was waiting for approval. 

Slowly, he spoke, "Because he couldn't hit you because you are underaged and it would be child-abuse if he did. It would seem as if he was slapping his own daughter. As for Farfarello, well, don't you realize that he would only be wasting his time by pleasuring Farfie instead, if he did hit him? "

"As for you…he needs you to be by his side to help him and protect him. Therefore, he can't have you too severely injured," said Nagi to Crawford, finally understanding. He became quiet and thoughtful. 

"Smart kid! Now let me get some shuteye," I managed to smile before I fall into a dark nightmare-filled sleep. After that, I blacked out and remembered nothing else. 


	2. Breathing: Inhalation

**Chapter one: Inhalation**

**I'm finding my way back to sanity again   
Though I don't really know what**

He could hear voices. Faces floated around in the air. Some of them were angry with him, some were sad and some were scared. They were talking to him; whispering, chatting, yelling, screaming, begging, crying, laughing. Some cried for him, some cried because of him, some begged for mercy, some were rebuking him. He saw vision of himself, no, more like a memory of him being beaten, kicked, clobbered and abused then spat on. He saw his mother, his father, his sisters, his neighbors, Takatori, the Weiss, the Schrient, Este, Rosenkreuz, SZ and everyone he knew. They were all talking at once, yelling at him, laughing at him, calling him names and blaming him. The world burnt into a pile of frenzy flaming rubbles and collapse around him, over him. And he could see himself lying there, eyes open yet lifeless, his body was limp and blood covered his entire body. He felt his heartbeat dissipated and eventually, it stopped beating permanently as the scorching fires of Hell swallowed him whole.

**I'm gonna do when I get there  
And take a breath and hold on tight  
  
**

Schuldich startled awake. Gasping short breath of air as if he was drowned and deprived of air. Slowly, his body calmed down and he began to breathe properly. Inhaling slow and deep gulps of rich fresh air. His head felt as if it was about to blow. He felt glad to have been able to escape his nightmares. It's been haunting him lately. He felt hot and damp, stuffy as well not to mention his throbbing head. Slowly, he sat up and ran his delicate fingers through his disheveled flaming hair. It was matted to his head by his sweat. He placed his fingers on the temples of his skull and gingerly messaged it.

He sighed and looked around. It was then did he realize that he was lying on the leather sofa in the living room of their shared quarters that they called 'home'. The house was dark, lightened merely by the shining silvery moon above the window. The clock on the wall showed that it was about half past nine. 

He remembered that he had to assassinate their target right there from the sofa he was lying on. Their target was too well guarded and the only possible way for them to complete that mission was for Schuldich to overload his brains and 'toast' it all the way from this haven of theirs. It took so much effort that he blacked out completely.

"I slept for so long…" he mumbled to himself as he stood himself up and staggered to the kitchen in the dark.

Soft humming of techno music could be heard from the second floor. _Must be Nagi…_He headed into the darkened kitchen and switched on the lights. The table was cleaned and cleared minus the plate of sandwich wrapped in cling wrap. He smiled gratefully at the sandwich. _The little brat can be really considerate at times. _

Silently, he sat down at the table, ate the sandwich and drank his juice as he contemplated that nightmare he's been suffering daily. He was silent, but never was his world. Voices rang in his head, Farfarello's, Nagi's, strangers'…they were all talking at once, in their heads.

**Spin around one more time  
And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace**

_Weird but Brad, Nagi and Farfie weren't in my dreams. What could that have meant, I wonder? Probably doesn't mean anything at all. Everything in my life is meaningless. Nothing matters. Nothing…_He pondered silently as he placed the plate and cup in the dishwasher. He swallowed down several assorted pills. Silently, he brewed a cup of thick fragrant Columbian Coffee and poured a glass of cool chocolate milk, and took a bottle of mineral water for himself. He wondered why he even bothered to make the coffee but decided to just let it slip.

With the coffee and chocolate milk in hand and bottled mineral water in his pocket, he threaded up the stairs. First, he came to a blue door with a 'No Entry' sign on it. The music that he heard previously augmented from more than the mere hum to an audible buzzing. Without warning he opened the door and stepped in. 

"Gaki! You're going to go deaf if you keep that up," he said in a brotherly tone as he pulled the headphone off of the teenager's head then turned off the stereo behind him. "How could you listen to one song on the headphone and play another on the stereo?" he asked bemusedly.

Nagi merely shrugged. "For me? Thanks!" he said plainly referring to the glass of chilled milk in Schuldich's grasps. He took the milk from Schuldich's hand before he could deny it, "…and, don't worry, I've locked him up for you. You looked so tired I thought I'd do you a favor."

"Thanks…but the madman ain't asleep yet," he said a smirk painted on his face. "You know, one of these days people will notice that a real human being lies beneath all this," he said rapping his knuckles lightly against the teen's head, grinning as the younger boy grimaced. 

"You're one to say. Now why don't you go and bother Crawford? I have homework to finish. Besides, his coffee is growing cold," he said waving his hand behind his head, not bothering to usher his housemate out.  

He walked down the hallway past his own room until he reached a rather impressive mahogany door. Even before he reached the door soft tapping could be heard from behind the thick door. Slowly, he pushed the door open and waltzed in without even bothering to knock and closed the door behind him.

"What do you want, Schuldich?" said the figure behind the laptop, without even lifting his head. 

"Nothing much, I just needed to piss you off," said the German nonchalantly. He sauntered to the table and sat opposite of the American leader. "Besides I brought you coffee. Here…" he continued placing the cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of him, beside the previously emptied cup.

**Cause I am hanging on every word you say  
And even if you don't want to speak tonight**

Only a snort was heard amongst the pitter-patter of the keyboard as Bradley Crawford's long elegant fingers glided across the keyboard. Schuldich was mesmerized by the grace of the fingers as they danced on the buttons with practiced ease and the strength of those long lean hands and arms that connected to them. After a few moments, Crawford noticed the peculiar silence from his 'unwanted' companion. Curious, he paused and looked up from his work then examined the fiery-headed young man in front of him.

"What now?" he asked Shuldich, feeling rather annoyed.

"Really, Brad. Nothing. I just wanted to bring you some coffee. I had a feeling you've finished your last cup and wanted a refill, so I saved you the trouble."

 "Right," he said half-heartedly, not noticing what the redhead had called him earlier.

"What?! No thanks? hug or kiss?" Schuldich teased, a half-grin graced his face.

"Get out of my office, Schuldich!!!" he commanded.

"Please, Crawford, just let me stay here, for a while. You don't eve have to speak. Just pretend I'm not here," he said earnestly.

Crawford didn't answer the redhead. He ignored the young man and went back to his work. Schuldich took that as a 'yes'.

Crawford knew that Schuldich spends time with him to get away from all the voices in his head. He knew that, to Schuldich, he was his last resort to find sanity. Maybe it was the counter attributes of their psychic discharges that allowed him to find control.  

**  
 Cause I want nothing more than to sit  
Outside Heaven's door and listen to you breathing**

Mutely, he stood up then slowly pushed his chair to a corner and hummed in his heart. He sat himself and curled his feet under him and closed his eyes. He felt calm. All the voices reduced to meager whispers. He spun the chair around in slow semi-circles and closed his eyes, a ghost smile on his delicate lips. The same lips that harsh words spilled out, the same mouth that contemptuous remarks and deadly threats rolled out, the same lips that flaunted those cynical smirks. The same lips that Crawford dreamed about in his dreams. The same blood red cherry lips that he longed to kiss but his pride forbade.

He was unusually quiet and that unnerved Crawford. He looked up from his work once again and eyed Schuldich warily, fully expecting the 'half-witted' (or so he calls him) German would read his mind at any second, but what he got instead was a motionless figure in the still swinging chair and a sort of static buzz in his head. The German was notorious for his unpredictable actions, that even the Oracle couldn't figure his moves and action. He was known to act out of the blue. After a while he continued his work, but cautiously.

Eventually, he overlooked the German sitting in the corner and continued about his work with a furious pace. He was nearly done when the laptop hung over. Furious, he slammed his palms on his worktable, causing his resting cohort to jump in shock and stand in a defensive stance out of reflex.

"Where's the danger?!" he asked and inquired, not too gently, "What's the hell is wrong?" when he noticed that they were still in Crawford's office. 

"None of your bloody business!" he spat out, fuming with anger. He pounded his finger on the keyboard trying to repair it and slammed the computer shut in frustration in the end.

"No, but you're my business. Really, I'm curious," he said calmly as he addressed his leader.

"Aren't you going to probe my mind to find out? That's what you usually do, anyway!" he said harshly. 

"Not tonight. I'm too tired to strain my brain anymore. Do you want anything?" he said leaving his stance and walked towards Crawford's table. Before the American managed to say anything, he already picked up the emptied coffee mug and left the room. 

**Is where I want to be yeah  
Where I want to be**

He left the room wordlessly and strolled out the door. His brain felt like it was about to burst apart. Ignoring the feel, he went to the kitchen and dumped the mug in the washer along with his plate. He took some chocolate mints that Crawford loved so much.

"At least there's something in this world that he loves, other than that gun of his…" he mumbled softly to himself.

Once he reached the doors separating him and Crawford, he placed his hand on the knob but then, he hesitated. He understood. He could feel, he sensed that the door was already locked. He knew he could open the door with little insistence, but he decided against it. Instead he merely leant against the doors and slumped to the ground. He was losing his mind again. The voices were returning to irk him. 

He pressed his body closer to the door in hopes of the hard ridges of the door would take his mind off the pain. He held onto the door as if his dear life depended on it. He felt pathetic but he couldn't stop the pain. He grasped the glass case of the chocolates so hard that it burst into pieces, embedding themselves deep within the flesh of his hands. Blood trickled onto the dark carpeting. 

He remained still as the pain dissolved into numbness. He could hear Crawford's steady breathing on the other side of the door. Schuldich's world began swirling in a myriad of faces and voices. People from his past, people that he saved, people that he killed all came back to taunt him. But they weren't screaming, just barely murmuring. They were trying to talk to him. Trying to get past the wall he made to shield himself from the world. 

**I'm looking past the shadows  
In my mind into the truth**

The whispering voices beckoned to him. There were so many of them that he was overwhelmed by it. He knew remotely in his mind that he had injured himself, but the inundation of thoughts doused his brain, disabling his pain receptors. No pain, just throbbing numbness. He felt limp and immobile as if he was rooted to the ground. Panic started to rise in his throat. He wanted to call out for help but his larynx weren't functional. The visions of faces liquefied and disappeared into the dark shadows of his mind.  

His wall crumbled piece by piece, eroding the mental concrete built around himself that he took years to perfect. With his mental shield penetrated, Schuldich became paralyzed with trepidation. Each piece that fell symbolized each piece of his life. The things that made him and the things that broke him, pieces that he labored to hide from the world.****

He wanted to collapse, he wanted to give in to the urge to let go and drown in the welcoming darkness. He wanted it to end so badly. The tears of anguish and pain that he held back all this while threatened to spill. He wanted to submit to his urge. But he needed to be strong, to survive, to protect the people that he loved. People he loved? Who are these people in his head?

**And I'm trying to identify  
The voices in my head  
God, which one's you**

There were so many voices that he couldn't recognize. Flashes of visage would appear when he managed to connect the voices to the faces. He connected the faces to his life past and present. He allowed the visions to take him and the shadows to envelope him in their convivial dark arms.

Schuldich heard his father, as he was burned alive in front of his family. He saw his mother as she was stripped and raped then killed by several men subsequently they forced her to watch them rape her children. He saw his sisters being ravaged one by one. He saw himself through a puddle crying in pain and begging for mercy. He was balled up on the dirt road in a mess of blood and various other foreign secretions. He knew he was suffering, but he couldn't remember the pain or the mortification or the anger. Suddenly everything went blank. 

Voices amplified by the resounding darkness and he was drifting in the endless void of his mind. His consciousness was getting farther away from him as the light dimmed. He tried to reach for it, but the harder he tried, the more he swayed away. He couldn't find an anchor to stay afloat. At that moment, he heard it: the soft fervent chanting of a madman. Never was that sound more welcoming. Subsequently the chanting was followed by a voice of a complaining Japanese teenager. He readily welcomed the belligerent teen. The voices were familiar, but he couldn't distinguish them in his current state of mind. They were comforting but weren't what he needed. He was still floating away.

"Schuldich!" 

His body tensed at that familiar demanding baritone voice. He recognized the voice right away. He has found his anchor!

**Let me feel one more time  
What it feels like to feel  
And break these calluses off of me  
One more time**

_Please, Brad! Help me! I'm numb!_ He felt his body spasm out of control. He could feel the thin layer of cold sweat covering his body. In his mind, he ran. He ran as fast as he could to that source. He was so close, so close. Then he was slammed into a thick metal barrier that he couldn't penetrate. His fists and claws rained on the walls until his hands bled. He needed to get in before he lost all his sanity.

Bradley Crawford looked at his teammate helplessly as he spasm. Usually being close was enough to douse away his pain. He held the German close but he couldn't fight off the feel that he might lose Schuldich this time. Schuldich was strong if not persistent but his mind must've been weakened after his mission. _Shit! Why didn't I see this!_

Suddenly, Schuldich grasped Crawford's shirt lapel and pulled him close. Crawford didn't notice the blood the German had smothered all over his pristine white shirt. All he saw was the pain etched on Schuldich's face. He stood and carried Schuldich to his room. He felt that he would be more prepared to handle the redhead in a more familiar territory. Without much consideration, he let his walls down as he lowered Schuldich onto his bed. 

Thoughts and emotions and pain rushed into him. He flinched in pain and shut his eyes close as if it would help reduce the pain. He partially saw himself in Schuldich's mind. He saw the fallen German, his hands and ears bleeding. Pulling the redhead close, he carried him yet again – only this time, it was in Schuldich's mind- into his haven. He opened his eyes to see Schuldich stirring from his restless unconsciousness. He went near and sat himself next to Schuldich.

"Braa…d?" he said then promptly fainted. Bradley Crawford finally allowed himself to exhale the breath he didn't realized he was holding. He was glad that he had managed to drag Schuldich out of his mind trap before he lost consciousness or Crawford might have lost him for good. Forever. Telepaths are heard of actually losing themselves in their mind, having an outwardly look of a comatose person. 

**Cause I am hanging on every word you say  
And even if you don't want to speak tonight**

Crawford took extra care in removing the shards of thick glass from Schuldich's pale long fingers. Slowly, he washed the wound with lukewarm water and tried his best to apply some anti-bacterial ointment without rousing the sleeping German. After his experience with Schuldich in his mind, he was left with Schuldich's telepathic abilities for the next 15 minutes and he had a newfound admiration for the teammate he often undervalued. No, he had never undervalued Schuldich; he only failed to show the German that he does indeed value him.

When he was done bandaging Schuldich's hands he stood and sat in the couch near the bed. And he too, fell right to sleep with bloodied shirt and all. And Schuldich woke up an hour later disorientated. His adventure in his own mind had left his sense of direction distorted. The walls surrounding the room weren't like the red ones his room. No, in fact it was light blue with dark midnight lines placed strategically to accentuate the wideness of the room. His bed sheets weren't the black and red ones that he was used to. Instead it was dark blue and black and smelt like mint and cinnamon and something distinctly Crawford. Then he realized that he was really in Crawford's room. He lifted himself off the bed to see the immaculate leader of Schwarz sleeping on the couch. _My, how kind of you, Bradley. But I reckon the bed is big enough for both of us._ He padded across the carpeted floor towards Crawford.

Schuldich smiled as he pushed the thick bangs of ebony from Crawford's face. The hand that touched Crawford's face was wrapped with bandaged and although he was shocked at the state of it, he was even more shocked that Crawford had taken time to bandage it for him. He was assaulted with a sudden flash of vision. His heart stopped for a full second before resuming its beat. Visions passed by so fast, he felt unsettled and as if he was about to fall. He felt nauseous that instant. But before he could manage to delve into the vision, it disappeared leaving him with a powerful and painful headache. Putting two and two together, he figured out that he must've absorbed some of Crawford's precognitive gifts. Now more or less he knew -even thought that experience barely skimmed the surface- how Crawford felt during a vision.

**That's alright, alright with me  
Cause I want nothing more than to sit  
Outside your door and listen to you breathing  
Is where I want to be yeah**

Seeing that the couch was a two-seater, Schuldich stood and dragged the comforter form the bed then plopped himself on the other end of the sofa. He leaned against Crawford's shoulder then pulled the thick coverlet over the both of them. He snuggled closer to the sleeping man then fell silent. He listened to Crawford's steady breathing then absorbed the silence emanating from his sleeping figure. He was glad that he wasn't a precog but he wished the he wasn't a telepath either. He wished for many things and among all those wishes, he wished to be in Crawford's presence most of all.

**I don't want a thing from you  
Bet you're tired of me waiting  
For the scraps to fall  
Off of your table to the ground  
Cause I just want to be here now**

He made a silent vow that he would tell Crawford one day. And he also promised himself that no one else would suffice. It was either Crawford or no one at all. He was done whoring himself and if Crawford didn't want him then well, it's definitely his loss. Slowly, he allowed the sound of the clock ticking and Crawford's breathing lull him into an inevitable slumber. He drifted then, into a dreamless sleep.****

**End of Chapter one: Inhalation.**


	3. Breathing: Whisper

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, not Brad, not Schu and not Nagi or Farfarello. Neither do I own the songs that I used for the fic; Breathing by Lifehouse and Whisper by Evanescence. This fiction was written for entertainment purposes only. (So please none of those legal craps, ok? 'Sides, I don't own a single cent. Neither do I get any by twisting plots and writing them down!) Pairings: Brad X Schu Feedback: Wanted! Let them scorch if you must or be generous and let them be soothing. A/N: I am sorry that I have failed to mention all of this in the last 2 chapters. Anyway, the song that I used for Chapter One: Inhalation was by Lifehouse entitled Breathing. As for this chapter, Chapter Two: Whisper is a song called Whisper by Evanescence. Dedicated to the nice people who reviewed my previous chapter, Cain and Seph Lorraine!! ^_^  
  
Legend: *Song Lyrics* ~Telepathy~ //Thoughts or Memories// ________________________________________________________________________  
  
Chapter two: Whisper  
  
Crawford roused at the feeling of a certain weight pressed against his side. He woke up with his whole left side of the body numb. He opened his sleepy eyes and waited for his bleary vision to adjust to the room's lighting. He peered out of the partially open curtains. //Still pretty dark//. The luminous green glow of his alarm clock indicated that it was merely half past two in the morning.  
  
He looked down to his left to see a mop of brilliant auburn hair glaring at him. He glanced over at the messed bedcovers and the dark discoloration on his midnight blue cover. //Schuldich's blood//Images from last night's episode came back to him, reminding him of the terror he felt for the German plastered against his side.  
  
Crawford wouldn't have minded staying in that position if his left hand wasn't screaming out to him. The lack of blood circulation made his hand look almost bluish. In a normal circumstance, he would have just pushed the sleeping German off his side onto the carpeted floor just to annoy the younger male. Slowly, he shifted, trying to move the dead weight without waking Schuldich up. He only managed to get his arm out of Schuldich's grip before the younger man snuggled closer for warmth.  
  
Sighing, Crawford forced himself to sleep. But the memory of last night kept him awake. Absently, his hands wandered down the back of the smaller German, trailing slow circles across the bare skin as if it could rub off the horror they just went through. He'll need to take Schuldich to see Clea. Later. Crawford didn't want to move, but sooner or later, he would need to leave.  
  
***  
  
Schuldich's mind ached again. He couldn't remember the last time it didn't hurt. Oh, it was in Crawford's arms. But Crawford wasn't there. He had been away for two weeks now and slowly Schuldich's state was deteriorating. He wanted Crawford's presence. He ached for it. The voices were overwhelming him yet again. Nagi had tried to help, but it didn't improve. He wanted no, he needed Crawford to be near.  
  
*Catch me as I fall Say you're here and it's all over now*  
  
In his mind, he replayed what the good doctor had said when Crawford took him before he left with Takatori for the States. Though he had more interest in the doctor rather than what she had to say. Rather, he was intrigued by her mind.  
  
//"Mr.Schuldich, I will keep this matter just between us at Mr. Crawford's request. Este will not know of it. But I need you to.understand the severity of this matter."//  
  
Most of what she had told him was lost in a buzz of nothingness. He had planned to pick her brain and find out, but he found cold steel instead.  
  
//"What I am prescribing to you is a Psychotherapeutic drug. It's still being tested, probably illegal, but it is effective. Something akin to you power lock disintegrated after that incident. That means your telepathy may well be blown out of proportions. This may be fatal to your mind as it could collapse at anytime at all if not prevented."  
  
"Woman, speak English, or German or Japanese for all I care. Just speak plainly," He was pissed and hurting.//  
  
Schuldich remembered how the dark haired bespectacled woman looked like. How the shadows played on her pale face. He couldn't detect her nationality or age or race. It was like she didn't have her own identity.  
  
//" I'll be frank with you Schuldich. Your power control for your telepathy was shattered in that accident. It wouldn't have gotten worse if you had come to me earlier. Your telepathy is still there, but hardly controllable. It could kill you and people around you if it got too much."  
  
"Does Brad know?"  
  
"Crawford is aware of it and the dangers. He has given me the green light to give you the drug," she said, slightly hesitant. She was hiding something.  
  
"You'll need to rebuild that lock. But you can't do it alone. You'll need another psychic to help you. I would help you, but.my channels aren't compatible with yours," she spoke softly, but without any emotion.//  
  
"Tch." Schuldich push the whole conversation from his mind. He kicked an empty beer can from the pavement. //Been a while since I had one of those//. He thought as he eyed the rolling can as it clanged against the tar.  
  
8Speaking to the atmosphere No one's here and I fall into myself*  
  
He was irritable and he was pissed. Brad Crawford had intentionally avoided him after the incident outside his office. But that was only for the following day because he left for America the day after that. So for the past one and a half weeks, he refused to take the drug in protest. He wanted to be angry with Crawford, blame him for his own demise, think of darker things when a presence brushed against his mind.  
  
~Schuldich?~  
  
~Eh, Doctor?~  
  
~Naoe Nagi called me up, asking where you were. Crawford will be back soon!~  
  
~Brad can just go fuck himself~  
  
And with that he severed the link then dropped to the ground. He couldn't care less that the ground was damp or that he was spurting blood or that there was no way anyone can find him underneath that abandoned bridge. He wanted Brad. He wanted to tell the bastard just how much he loved him but he also wanted to hate him so badly. He just wanted to rot away in solitude. Doctor Clea had told him that the pills would lessen or rather, would weaken his telepathy. But he refused to take them, fearing that if he did; he would lose his telepathy for good.  
  
*This truth drive me Into madness*  
  
"And if there was no more telepathy, what use would Crawford have with an empty shell? This body nothing but a vessel for that talent," Schuldich slurred as the pain began to engulf his body. He was failing and soon, Brad wouldn't have any further need for him.  
  
"Ah, Gott! I never wanted this 'gift'. Oh, how it had cost my life," his voice drenched with scorn. Then he continued, voice full of irony, " but now, that's the only thing of any worth that I have, eh? The only thing I have that is of any value! And You're taking that away from me, aren't You?"  
  
Schuldich was having one of Farfarello's talks with God. They all had a bone to pick with Him. Farfarello, Crawford, himself.probably Nagi too. Slowly, he felt the steady hum of minds that he had struggled to keep at bay envelope him. His pupils dilated and his eyes rolled back into his head. He was that close to submitting to the dark cries. His hands were tainted by blood. They always were. Blood from his victims, from his family, from himself.  
  
He wasn't sure whether God was laughing down on him or crying for him but it began to rain. The rain made up for the tears that he could not cry. He couldn't cry when his family was killed, he couldn't cry when his virginity was taken so brutally, he couldn't cry when his mind was so callously plundered neither could he cry when he killed. God only knows how much he wanted to.  
  
*I know I can stop the pain If I will it all away*  
  
Rivulets of dark red looked almost black in the dark as it spilled down his hands. He felt numb all over. A familiar feeling. He relished the deadened sentiment and ironic welcome into the void. Absently, he thought that red, maroon was very becoming of his fair skin as he looked blearily at his slashed wrists. Red would probably make him more attractive. Brad probably couldn't resist him even if he wanted to. He giggled lightly at that thought as his sanity corroded away.  
  
Vaguely, he wondered what Brad would think seeing him like this. //Would he still think I'm pretty? Would he think of me as 'fuckable'? Shit! Fuck you, Bradley Crawford!//  
  
Suddenly, Schuldich was presented by a visage of an imposing Angel of Death, glowering down at him with harsh bright light surrounding him .He felt as if he had died and went to heaven. //Pft! Yeah, right! Heaven! He's probably here to send me down to Hell//. Standing on the ledge, dressed in his favorite now-wet crème-colored Armani business suit was none other than the devil himself.  
  
//Good bye, Cruel World! But You were a hard Mistress to please.//  
  
With that he began to gradually slip unconscious with a soft smile splayed on his face as he slumped lower to the ground.  
  
Brad Crawford made a dash down the muddy slope oblivious of the dark brown stains soaking up his pant leg. His breath was caught in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he panicked like this. His blood froze and adrenaline rushed in his veins. He made a leap and skidded to a stop about half a meter away from the limp German.  
  
"Schuldich!" he cried. Schuldich's body was cradled in his arms. He shook Schuldich, trying to rouse the German awake.  
  
*Don't turn away (Don't give in to the pain)*  
  
"Wake up! Come on, Schuldich! I order you to stay awake," Crawford continued, his voice tinged with desperation. Clea has warned him about leaving Schuldich behind unattended. She had cautioned him not to let Schuldich slip unconscious.  
  
Schuldich's eyes open into jaded green slits. Then he smiled. Crawford's heart broke. Schuldich was surrendering. His eyes began to close again but Crawford wouldn't allow it.  
  
"Oh nonono! Stay awake!" he was slapping Schuldich's face lightly.  
  
"Th.there's.so .many voi.voices," Schuldich rasped out, struggling to stay awake.  
  
"I know. You have to fight them."  
  
*Don't try to hide (Though they're screaming your name)*  
  
"C-can't. I'm too.tired."  
  
"You have to try! I'm here! It's gonna be alright!" Crawford's voice sounded gruff and grated.  
  
"Are you here.to take me.away?" Schuldich small voice sounded painfully young to Crawford's ears.  
  
"Yes, I'm here to take you home. Just stay awake, alright?"  
  
In Crawford's eyes, Schuldich looked deathly pale.and young. Even his vibrant hair was dulled by the dark night and mud. Schuldich smiled faintly but proceeded to allow his eyes to drift shut.  
  
*Don't close your eyes (God knows what lies behind them)*  
  
Schuldich's mind was almost entirely consumed. He had drifted into the silence of the cold void. He thought he saw a dark-haired Engel that would take him away, but he kept pulling Schuldich back. //No! No! I want to let go! I want to surrender! Stop pulling me!//  
  
Crawford thought that Schuldich reminded him of a broken rag doll he had encountered on the first day he was in Rosenkreuz. Shattered against the black tar. How he had managed to carry Schuldich all the way up was even beyond him, but he did. Schuldich's eyes drifted shut.  
  
"Schuldich! Schuldich, come on! Seigfried!" Crawford didn't even notice that he had slipped so desperate was he to rouse Schuldich.  
  
Schuldich's mind snapped. That name! It was his name. No, that wasn't his name anymore! He had erased that name from his life a long time ago! But no one knew it other than.other than Brad! Suddenly, everything became too painfully real.  
  
*Don't turn out the light (Never sleep never die)*  
  
"B-Br.Brad?" Schuldich's voice was hoarse and dry from the harsh breathing.  
  
"Ja, it's me," he answered, glad that Schuldich was awake.  
  
Slowly, Crawford eased the German in the passenger seat after some complications with the door. He rushed to the driver's side and got in. He then ripped the dashboard open and pulled out the First Aid Kit. He took two thick layers of gauze and readied the brandy -that Schuldich had bought and forgotten about- since they've run out of antiseptic cream. He tried to wash away as much dirt and grime as he could before taking hold of Schuldich's chin.  
  
"This is going to hurt like hell, but I have to do this," he said bluntly.  
  
Schuldich merely nodded weakly. Brad smiled slightly, glad that Schuldich was awake and aware. //Oh, he'll get a bashing when he's all mended, but for now//.he had to stop the bleeding!  
  
Crawford uncapped the alcohol and took a deep breath, both for himself and Schuldich, then poured the amber liquid on Schuldich's wrists. The gash was deep. Intentionally deep. The redhead gasped. He pulled one of his hands away and grabbed the brandy bottle to take several generous swigs of the liquor. Crawford recaptured the bloodied hands in an iron grip and refused to let the German take anymore brandy. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Schuldich hard. Vaguely, he tasted Schuldich and unconsciously imprinted it in his memory.  
  
He gathered his wits about him preparing his mind then he lowered his mental barrier. Schuldich's mind was clamped tight. He brushed his mind against the German's walls softly, as if to tell the younger mind to open up to him. Slowly, Schuldich painstakingly allowed what remained of his walls to crumble. Crawford gasped into Schuldich's mouth as the pain entered him and little sigh escaped Schuldich as the pain partially lessened.  
  
*I'm frightened by what I see But somehow I know That there's much more to come*  
  
Again, Crawford was in Schuldich's mind. He saw what Schuldich saw, felt a raw mixture of passion, pleasure and pain amplified by his own feelings. They were sharing a bond again. Reluctantly, he pulled his mind away and felt Schuldich's mind slip away from his. He was even more reluctant to break the kiss but Schuldich broke it, breathing harshly from lack of air, pain and shock.  
  
Crawford took a deep stabilizing breath then open his mouth to speak, "Better?"  
  
Schuldich took a little longer than Crawford expected to coherently answer him. And shamefully as it was, it had actually stoked his ego. Crawford quickly bandaged Schuldich's wrists as thoroughly as he could. Then he started the engine of the black Mercedes sports and drove as fast as he could to Este's sanatorium.  
  
The hospital itself was unlike most infirmaries. Este has a sadistic taste in everything. The building was large, aptly covered with black marbles and dark maroon and granite exterior. There was a gaunt and haunting aura surrounding the imposing building; as if too much pain and torture had tainted it.  
  
It was unlike Bradley Crawford to rush into things headlong but it was uncharacteristic pf him to be impulsive and kiss Schuldich like that. And there he was, speeding at breakneck speed. The sleek black vehicle skidded into a stop at the entrance. He got out and yanked the passenger door in annoyance. As gently as he could muster, he hoisted Schuldich's battered frame into his arms. The gentleness of his touch was unbecoming for a killer and how, Crawford thought, would the German laugh about it if he weren't so half-dead.  
  
*Immobilized by my fear And soon to be Blinded by tears*  
  
Crawford's precise and brusque footsteps bounced of the sterile but unusual gray and red walls of the hall. The echoes rang and began to change. It became more erratic, more hastened, more.desperate. No one dared to approach the stoic man when a raging storm broils in his eyes. There a strange and ironic depiction was frozen in time. A man in pristine white smeared with blood trying to revive or rejuvenate, perhaps, a delicate but dying flame walking further into the darkness of the abyss.  
  
Then, he ran. For all that he was worth, he ran. Fear was indeed a bitter little taste. He would embrace it, but not today. Today he needed to feel the sweet honeyed taste of hope. Something that he had never thought he would ever feel like experiencing.  
  
A trail of blood red beads followed after their wake. And the sands of time flow after it.lesser and more strained.  
  
"CLEA!!" Crawford's roar reverberated and rattled the core of everything with soul.  
  
The doctor made her presence known as she emerged from the shadows as if she was made out of it.  
  
"Crawford. Good. You found him," she said devoid of any emotion. She seemed to have pulled a stretcher for Schuldich out of the shadows as well.  
  
"Damn it, Dominique! Save him or I swear I will burn this place down. With YOU in it!" Crawford's voice was edgy and desperate.  
  
Then, she smiled. Her stoic features were shattered and changed then formed a delicate but apparent smile.  
  
"You know I will," she said assertively. Then softly to herself, "even if it's just so that I can feel again."  
  
*I can stop the pain If I will it all away*  
  
Crawford believed in her. She had never betrayed nor failed him before. But that didn't dissuade the nervousness and the fear that disconcerted him. His eyes trailed after her as she pushed the stretcher into her mysterious dark room. Even from back in the time when they were still in Rosenkruez, she was dubbed the 'freak' among the other freaks. Though, she is without doubt one of the best Talent and psychic doctor out there despite being the youngest.  
  
In the operating room, assisted only by the dim light of blue, she sets about to help heal Schuldich's wounds. Her black eyes began to fade as it slid close. Schuldich's heartbeat though weak, was still constant. She synchronized her body and mind to him and with him. A scalpel floated into her palms as she made a little incision just under his sternum. Blood flowed in tiny red rivulets that seemed purple in the muted blue lighting. Her hand slid above the cut and blood began to swirl upwards, like miniature waterspouts. Then a bright indigo surge of energy fled from her into his wound and spread across his body like wildfire making every vein in Schuldich's body glow blue.  
  
His wounds healed almost instantaneously but the link between body and mind was weak. Cuts began to appear on her own body though they were like scratches compared to Schuldich's wounds. She could feel Crawford's anxiety, Schuldich's agony, and a whole amalgam of emotions flowing through her. She felt a whole lot of pain and suffering and she relished every bit of it. Her body reacted to the emotions, despite her euphoric response; her mind was in pain.so tears fell involuntarily.  
  
"C-Crawford," she said between sobs.  
  
"Clea! Is he alright," was the first thing that escaped his mouth as he burst through the double doors.  
  
Despite her current situation, she couldn't help the small chuckle that slipped past her lips.  
  
"I'm fine, Crawford. Thank you for your concern," she said dryly. Seeing that her remark didn't seem to have any effect other than increase his anxiety, she decided to placate him. Slowly, she rose and neared the operation table.  
  
"He's fine. He's heartbeat is weak, but stable," she said, her crisp manner returning ever so slightly. Her lips curved up slightly when she heard Crawford let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. She decided not to spoil the moment for Crawford.  
  
".You're hesitating, Dominique. There's a 'but', isn't there?"  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Yes, Crawford. At this moment, Schuldich's mental-physical connection is rather weak. I would try to bring him back, but.you see, psychic connections are almost like your blood type. Some are incompatible with others. My Talent and Schuldich's aren't on the same wavelength. I might endanger his life by even trying. Besides, even if I'm compatible, I don't have the energy to execute it."  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
"How do you know, whether.?" she said, already knowing what to expect.  
  
"I just know. We've done it before. I-I shared a .connection with him," he said oblivious to her knowing smile.  
  
"Very well," she said quietly then left the two alone.  
  
*Fallen angels at my feet Whispered voices at my ear*  
  
He sighed once again. Then ensued to touch Schuldich's face, an action he had restrained himself from taking so many times before.// Hmm, so soft. So pale//. He bent down and whispered into Schuldich's ear. Things he knew the German would react to. He whispered soft threats, past memories, future hopes. Things he knew the German won't hear. Then he entered Schuldich's psychic barrier yet again.  
  
Getting past Schuldich's barrier was getting more and more easy with each try and this was getting more disturbing by the minute and rouse Crawford's concern. //If it gets any easier, I'm sure that wouldn't be good news. Could it be he's getting weaker?//  
  
Voices bombarded Crawford ceaselessly. Pain was seeping into him from every inch of his body. He felt like a steel balloon. Absorbing all but releasing none. //God! Is this what he has to go through each day?//  
  
Crawford tried his best to ignore the pain as he wondered for a bit. Then he saw what he was looking for. In a distance, he could see a blood red dot that reminded him of the German's hair. He heard Schuldich's voice in a slow, melancholic hum. His voice was barely audible above the screaming and wailings. Then as if Schuldich's mind wanted to contradict Crawford's thoughts, a sudden wall of utter steeling mind power erupted from the 'ground' that Crawford was walking on.  
  
In sheer frustration and anger, Crawford slammed his fists onto the wall making his skin break. He was so close! He tried to go around the wall, but it seemed to stretch on and on as far as the eyes can see. He tried to climb it, but the steep and smooth surface made it impossible. Subconsciously, he was drawn to Schuldich's hum and with a renewed vigor he trailed the voice. He kept walking for some time, feeling close yet still so far apart.  
  
Then he stopped. He knew that beyond the thick wall that separated them lay Schuldich because the voice was so close. But before he could be sure, the voice grew softer and softer then it fell silent. And the wall suddenly disappeared into the ground just as abruptly as it came. Crawford looked at the frail figure and ran towards it.  
  
"SCHULDICH!!! NOO!!" he felt his heart fail. Schuldich was on the ground, his brandy-wine hair splayed across the ground and.wings? He had wings, but not plain, pristine white ones like ones people have always depicted on angels. No, his were burgundy with black tips. There was a dark figure of a woman next to him, crying as she reached out for Schuldich.  
  
*Death before my eyes Lying next to me I fear She beckons me Shall I give in?*  
  
"I am sorry, but his time is almost here," she said with woe and pain in her eyes.  
  
"No! You are nothing more than an image concocted by Schuldich as his last defense. I will not let you, a non-existent being, ruse me into letting him go," said Crawford adamantly. He began to fret. The German needed help.  
  
"I am real, Bradley Crawford," she said, but nothing more. Instead she neared a tiny dandelion and touched it with one hand. Right before his eyes, the plant shriveled and died.  
  
"I refuse to BELIEVE you!"  
  
She touched his face and a gash appeared across his cheek. He didn't even flinch. She sighed, "You have to believe me. He," she paused as she gestured to Schuldich, "does. Therefore, in his mind, I AM real."  
  
"Why do you want him, Bradley?"  
  
"I forbid you to call me that! Only.only."  
  
"Only he has earned the right to call you that, Crawford?? But he doesn't have his power anymore! He's nothing to you! Let me have him and you will be rid of another nuisance and burden for the rest of your life. He is annoying, he's vulgar, and he's nothing but trouble. He's a whore and slut, anyway," she said with a slight cynical and sadistic smile.  
  
No sound was heard beyond the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. He had slapped her hard across her face causing blood to leak out of the broken skin of her lip.  
  
"If he is to die, then it will be in MY hands! Now, if you have nothing better to say, I wish to save his sorry ass so that I can beat it out of him later! What he is to me is nothing of your concern and or anyone else's!"  
  
She smiled and whispered softly in the wind before evanescing.  
  
*Upon my end shall I begin Forsaking all I've fallen for I rise to meet my end*  
  
Crawford knelt next to Schuldich, feeling his pale hands grow colder by the instant. He wasn't sure whether the German would survive, but should he die, so would Crawford. If he were trapped in Schuldich's mind as it dies, his mind would die with Schuldich. He knew he should at least attempt to save himself, but he was reluctant to even move away from Schuldich.  
  
Then he hugged Schuldich and just held him there allowing his own heat to absorb into the German's cooling body. He ran his hands across Schuldich's wings. He knew the wings were only a figment of Schuldich's imagination, but it felt so real. The whole world he was in felt so real.  
  
"S-so, t-this is how it ends, B-Brad?" it was raspy and soft. So soft in fact that Crawford nearly missed it.  
  
"S-Schu!" he said in shock and joy.  
  
"W.where were you? I-I wa-waited for s-so long for y-ou." it was a struggle just to talk.  
  
"Shh, I need to take you out of here! Don't talk," Crawford was so relieved. There was still a chance.  
  
"H-have I tol-told you.that.I-I thoroughly. h-hate you!" he said to Crawford but not with malice. Just acceptance and perhaps.even love.  
  
Crawford smiled. Not just any smile, but a genuine smile, " No, you haven't really. But I hope to hear a lot more from you after this."  
  
Suddenly, both of them blacked out and when they came to, they were both on two different stretchers side-by-side with their hands and fingers intertwined. Crawford disentangled their hands much to Schuldich's disappointment. Crawford sat and subsequently helped Schuldich sit up. Being still unstable and weak from their escapade, the German nearly fell back is it weren't for Crawford's arms and shoulder supporting him. They heard a slight shuffling and looked to find Dr Clea Dominique standing in front of them.  
  
"Hello boys. I hope you had a pleasant journey to and back," she said, her dry humor apparent.  
  
Then she turned dead serious, " I had hope for you to wait for me to prepare both of you before you delved into Schuldich's mind. Both of your bodies suffered tremendous amount of shock as both of your hearts had actually stopped for a while. I have done some diagnostic check-ups on your vitals and there seem to be no damage, " she said pointedly at Crawford.  
  
"Both of you do not exert yourself. Especially you, Schuldich. I'm don't come cheap. Crawford, Schuldich will be your ward until I deem you no longer need any further help. If I don't see any improvement, I will have your ass, Crawford."  
  
"You can't. That one's mine, Doc!" Schuldich chipped out softly in attempt to lighten the mood, earning a glare from Crawford. Without a word, he lowered Schuldich back on the stretcher and ambled towards Clea but not without difficulty.  
  
"I told you not to exert yourself, Crawford."  
  
"Dominique, what happened here."  
  
".will not reach Este's knowledge. Don't worry, I've taken care of it. Take him home, Brad. And treat him the way he deserves to be treated. And help him re-build his control."  
  
"You feel too much, Clea."  
  
"I'm an empath, Brad. I feel other people's emotions, so don't bother denying it. Just.thank Schuldich for letting me feel something for myself."  
  
"Hmm," was Crawford's version of an affirmative. He gathered the sleeping German into his arms and headed towards the car.  
  
They were heading home. And what a long way they have to go.  
  
End of Chapter Two  
  
***More A/N: I'm sorry for those who've been waiting for the continuation. I hope this chapter is not too long for you. I shall be taking some time off to study for my Major Exam (only 5 weeks left + another 3 for all the papers) and I promise I'll write more after that, depending on the feedback. ^_^ (Thanks to those who have given me reviews! This chapter is for you! ^_^)*** 


	4. Breathing: Respire

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own any of these characters; not Brad, not Schu and not Nagi or Farfarello. Neither do I own the songs that I used for the fic; _

**_Chapter One: Inhalation – Breathing by Lifehouse._**

**_Chapter Two: Whisper  -_**_ **Whispe**r **by** **Evanescence**._

**_Chapter Three: Respire_**_ - **Taking Me Over by Evanescence**. _

_Apparently a lot of Lifehouse and Evanescence songs are BxS songfic worthy! ^_^ _

_The standard disclaimer applies. And oh, I own Brad's Black Mercedes and Dr. Clea Dominique._

_This fiction was written for entertainment purposes only. (So please none of those legal craps, ok? 'Sides, I don't own a single cent. Neither do I get any by twisting plots and writing them down!) _

**_Pairings: Brad X Schu_**

**_Rating: PG-13 (Might change to R)_**__

**_Feedback:_**_ Wanted! Let them scorch if you must or be generous and let them be soothing. _

**_A/N_**_: I am sorry that I have failed to mention all of this in the first 3 chapters that this story is **Yaoi** (Doh!) so don't read if you don't like it. I mean, you'd think that people would know from the coupling mentioned. *dramatic sigh*_

**Another A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to Hazel and all the nice people who have read and reviewed this fic, Cain, Seph Lorraine, Kato-Chan and Shi-Chan. You guys make me feel so appreciated and I love all of you! And to Hazel, you know this one chapter exists only because of your persistence. Thanks and lotsa love you guys~!

**Chapter Three: Respire**
    
    Legend:
    
    ***Song Lyrics***
    
    ~_Telepathy_~

_//Thoughts or Memories//_

Crawford felt the blood rush to his head, thrumming like a million of angry bees stuffed into his cranium. He swerved to the right, dodging the incoming car absently. Crawford had felt the bitter taste of fear and the anxiety of near death. He vaguely heard the aggravated honks of the passing drivers. He was too busy sorting his emotions to care which side of the road he was driving on. Tonight, Crawford had nearly lost Schuldich for good.

Clea's words rang like a bell in his head. Crawford's black Mercedes Sports skidded to a stop in their garage, announcing his return to Nagi and Farfarello. The main door opened to reveal Nagi standing by the entrance, ready to assist. As Crawford slipped out of the driver's seat, Nagi could see the weariness etched on Crawford's face. The young Japanese neared the car, opening the passenger seat's door to carry Schuldich out. 

Crawford's first instinct was to stop the boy, fearing that Nagi would drop the German. He had to remind himself that the boy's physical-psychic power was stronger than his brute strength alone and that the Nagi cared for his comrade as much as he did. Reluctantly, he allowed Nagi to float Schuldich inside, keeping a watchful eye on both of them all the while. The flooring of the stairs barely made a sound as the young boy and the German made their way up to the second floor. 

"Put him in his room, Nagi."

Nagi merely nodded.

The whole household was somber that night. Even Farfarello sat motionless on the couch in the living room; his favorite knife plunged into a blood red apple on the coffee table. The television was on, but he wasn't watching it. Instead, he had his eye on Crawford who, at that moment couldn't even push himself off the heavy main door he was leaning on. Suddenly, the whole escapade finally sunk in and at last, Crawford gave into the urge to just let go. He crumbled onto the shiny floor of their house.
    
    ***You don't remember me, but I remember you.**

**I lie awake and try so hard not to think of you***

Boots thumped against the floor as Farfarello made his way to the door that Crawford was slumped against. Crawford eyed the jaded boots curiously, not bothering to look at their owner. 

"Takatori called. He wants us to be in the office tomorrow," Farfie said in all seriousness, looking down on his American leader slumped against the main door.

Farfie stood there watching motionless as Crawford's bloodied hand slowly lifted itself from the floor to rip the glasses off his ragged face. For a while nothing could be heard except for the light shuffling from Nagi's movement upstairs and the electrical buzz of the television. Everything else was silent, as if waiting for Crawford's reaction. Then, when it came, Farfie's single visible eyebrow twitched. Crawford let out a loud, very uncharacteristic sigh.

"All of us?" the brunette simply asked, lethargy drenched his voice.

"Didn't say," was the blonde's simple reply.

With nothing more than a nod, Crawford stood and dusted himself. Farfie understood that he had been _royally_ brushed off, meaning that the conversation was over. For the first time in a long while Schwarz have been together, this was probably the first time Farfie have ever seen Crawford so distraught and unsure. If he weren't deemed insane, Farfie would have started worrying about the Oracle and the Mastermind, even the Little One for they were all dancing on thin ice.
    
    ***But who can decide what they dream?**
    
    **And dream I do***

Remembering that he was behind schedule with this self-mutilation time, he made his way to his basement room but not before grabbing the knife embedded in the apple. He stopped to glared at the screen with the Pope's face on it. The newscaster was saying something about a religious conspiracy uncovered. Farfie grinned and executed a quick jab at the remote to shut off the buzzing television.

 //_One of humanity's greatest creations and worst blights, that thing is! God must really be damning Himself. All the lost souls because of it…//_ Farfarello thought absently about the TV. About a month ago, a thought like that would have made Schuldich's acerbic or amusing remarks snake itself inside his 'deluded' head_._

But since that accident three and a half weeks ago, telepathy with Schuldich was either painful or nonexistent but seldom in between. Not many knew, but Schuldich could make Farfarello feel pain. Crawford said that it was because Schuldich could trigger the pain receptors in his brain, causing his body to feel both, psychologically and mentally induced pain -something about mind over matter- though they were never strong enough to enough to kill him. But with this recent predicament, the pain he felt was almost to the breaking point.  

With the apple thrown haphazardly in the direction of the trashcan by the fridge, he happily nicked at his white flesh with the knife as he made his way for his room. Hearing his own voice in his head all the time was beginning to get boring and lonely. _//Does Crawford and Nagi feel the same?//_

Crawford eyed the Irishman as he made his way in the general direction of his basement cell/room. Crawford felt odd that Farfie seemed subdued and, dare he say it, almost 'normal.' Ignoring that, -as he preferred to think about more important and significant things- Crawford turned and began climbing the stairs while loosening his tie as he went. He felt like crap. He was awfully sure he looked it. 

What was meant to be a week's trip to New York became two weeks of Hell in the States with the Devil himself. He felt sorry for having left Schuldich … Schwarz for so long. He pitied Nagi somewhat; a sickly Schuldich and an insane 'lunatic' aren't such easy things to take care of. He stopped at the top of the stairs, nausea causing his head to spin in wide frantic circles. Nagi stood in the hallway just outside of Schuldich's room looking ever so young. _//Speak of the Devil//_
    
    ***I believe in you **

**I'll give up everything just to find you***

"Schuldich woke up for a bit," he said quietly. Crawford barely heard what the youth was saying even as he walked closer.

"How is he?" came the concerned reply. Crawford was indeed concerned for them, more than he wanted to or will ever admit.

"He was moaning your name. Then he woke up. He saw my face and smiled. He said 'Hello, Chibi!' just before he fell asleep again."

Crawford didn't know how to react to the gladness in Nagi's voice, so he just remained silent and just observed.

"He recognized me, Crawford. He finally did!" Nagi said ruefully, a sad smile graced his features. His voice trembled with mixture of fear and pained joy.

"Recognize…?"

"A week ago, since after you left, he couldn't remember things. He forgot who I was, what his name, where he was. Things like that. And sometimes my brain feels like it's going to rip apart"

"It's just the side effect of his situation. His psychic power control is weak. Something happened. So his controls are just aren't as strong as they were before," Crawford explained, cautiously leaving out the disquieting parts. He was grateful that Nagi wasn't a telepath, but the boy is smart and sooner or later, he'll put two and two together. But Crawford seriously hoped that even as smart as he is, he'd end up with five.

"So that means the voices…are stronger?"

"And his barriers, weaker. He'll recover, but he'll need our help," Crawford tried to explain it nonchalantly.
    
    ***I have to be with you to live, to breath...**
    
    **You're taking over me***

"How can I help?" Nagi eagerly asked.

"I need you to stay here with Schuldich tomorrow. Takatori wants a meeting with us tomorrow morning, maybe until noon."

"But I have schoo…," Nagi's reply was cut short when he heard a moan from Schuldich.

"Listen to me, Nagi. I can't leave Farfarello behind with Schuldich alone. I'm not sure he's capable of caring for Schu's needs. And Takatori MUST NOT know about Schuldich's condition. Can I trust you to do this?" Crawford was gripping Nagi's shoulder, trying to make the boy understand the situation.

"I…Yes," he answered but his eyes that were averted away from Crawford, fell on the sleeping German, instead.

"Good. I…I won't be able to do this alone, Nagi" Crawford said. He patted Nagi's shoulder gently, emphasizing his point. He removed his bloodied double-breasted Armani coat and hanged it over his right arm while his left worked on unbuttoning his cuffs as he moved on towards his room to get his own rest. 

"Brad?" Nagi called out; his voice was laden with uncertainty. 

Crawford stopped and turned to face the boy, "Hmm?"

"He…he will be alright, won't he?"
    
    ***Can you know what I know and all we have.**
    
    **You saw me mourning my love for you and touched my hand.**

**I knew you loved me then.***

 Crawford allowed a small smile, "Aa. He's strong enough."

Nagi let out an almost inaudible of relief. But Crawford heard it and his smile widened a notch.

"I-It's just that the missions would be really difficult without him," the young Japanese said, trying to cover his initial embarrassment of being too sentimental.

"Of course. That's for me to worry about, Nagi. It's all right for you to worry about him. We all do," Crawford spoke with his back to Nagi.

Nagi was silent for a few moments as if contemplating what Crawford had said, and then he said, " Okay. I'm going to help Farfie settle in. If you need me…I'll…be with him."

Crawford wasn't sure how it happened, but he supposed during the past weeks, the two younger members have grown closer together. Farfarello probably had been able to give Nagi the comfort the boy needed so much; it was something that Crawford couldn't have given. Crawford felt awful that he wasn't around to help Schuldich and Nagi but he felt glad that Farfie was around to compensate that. His train of thoughts followed him all the way to his own room. 

He was covered in grime and blood and he was desperately in need of a bath. He remembered that Schuldich was probably in a far worse condition compared to him. He stripped his soiled clothes away and dumped them into a laundry basket in the corner. He turned on the hot water and stepped in. 

Crawford took a quick shower, his every thought drifting back to the unconscious German next door. Even as he dried himself, Schuldich occupied his mind. He rinsed the tub once over then began filling it with fresh hot water for Schuldich. As he filled the tub he tried to think of something else, but everything kept drifting back to the redhead, even as he looked in the bathroom mirror.  
    
    ***I look in the mirror and see your face, **
    
    **if**** I look deep enough.***
    
    Flashes of the woman in Schuldich's mind flared through his head. Images of the bleeding German, stray voices and a glimpse of Schuldich with dark and tainted -but beautiful- wings rutted in his skull, demanding his surrender. He saw Schuldich's memory mingled with recollections of strangers that he had picked up. There was a blurred line between his memories and oblivion. Between sanity and psychosis.
    
    Crawford let out a hoarse gasp and breathed in deep gulps of air. He pushed back loose strands of wet tendrils of dark hair out of his face. He felt the nausea surfacing again and this time, it didn't just stop there. Crawford lurched then emptied the contents of his stomach out into the sink. Bits and pieces of the partially digested airplane food and a lot of water and mucus drained down the bowl. _//Just as well.__ Plane food can't be good for the body, anyway!// _
    
     Crawford hurled a few more times before his stomach was calm enough to let him take a breather. Vaguely Crawford wondered whether that was the reason Schuldich was always so thin. All that voices and faces pushing their way into his head all at once while spinning like a tornado within his skull. The whole thing was like a bullet ricocheting off the walls, gaining speed and momentum as it goes.

***So many things inside **
    
    **that**** just frighten you are taking over*******
    
    After a while, Crawford got to his wobbly feet and slipped on his boxers and pajama pants. Then, bare-chested, he went into the room next door. Schuldich was still mumbling in his sleep and began thrashing slightly. Gently as he could, he lifted the unconscious German into his arms. He had a slight problem getting Schuldich to stay in position as he kept slipping off. Crawford felt a slight piercing irony in doing that. In that one night alone, he had carried the redhead in his arms -in the way he had always imagine- four times and not once did he enjoy doing so. He was surprised that even in his weakened condition, he still managed to carry the smaller man. 
    
    He carried Schuldich into his room and lowered the sleeping German on his bed, spread eagle. Carefully, he peeled off Schuldich's stained-beyond-repair shirt off his body, mindful of the cuts and bruises on the pale body. He paused for a moment before rising to head for the bathroom. He returned a moment later with a small container filled with warm water and a towel-like cloth. 
    
    Crawford gingerly wiped off the mud and coagulated blood the best he could in that circumstance. He began unzipping Schuldich's soiled trousers. Crawford noticed that it was the German's favorite pants –Schuldich had told him once when Crawford accidentally spilled coffee on it- aside from the skintight ones he loved so much. He made a mental note to buy another pair for him later to replace this one. He pulled the pants off and chucked it into the dustbin near the bathroom door. The American leader hesitated for an instant before removing the black boxers. He wiped the German of the visible dirt all over in the most indifferent manner he could manage. 
    
    He carried Schuldich to the bathroom and gently slipped him into the warm water, careful to leave his arms out of the tub. He ran the soaped cloth over Schuldich's back and arms. Schuldich stirred slightly at the foreign sensation. Crawford wondered where the redhead had been to before he went under the bridge. It seemed to Crawford that Schuldich was probably assaulted from the bruises and shallow cuts on his back and arms. 
    
    It brought him back to the time when they were both younger and still green in the business. There were several times when they had to bathe together to save water and time. Schuldich would always make a joke and pretend to 'invite' Crawford in with him the way lovers do, whenever they did. And there were times when either one of them were unconscious and wounded and in dire need of a cleaning like at that instant. 
    
    ***(taking over me)**
    
    **You're taking over me***
    
    He moved to Schuldich's chest. He watched the way his hand moved around in slow circles over the pale skin, mesmerized. As he moved downwards, he could feel his own breath catch in his throat. He's done this before, then why did he feel so differently about it? Crawford pushed the notion out of his head and moved to tend to Schuldich's legs. The cloth slipped out of his hands into the milky water. He couldn't see the cloth in that soapy water so he dipped his hand and started to feel for it. But everything that he touched almost always ended up being Schuldich's skin. He gave up looking for the offending towel and used his bare hands instead. 
    
    He was up to Schuldich's calf when the German began to rouse. Crawford pointedly ignored the German and carried on with his task. But when Schuldich began slipping down into the water, he rushed to pull him up by the shoulders. Schuldich was almost fully awake by then, his breath slightly ragged. Crawford felt a stab of longing in his heart. He wished that the German's hitch in pleasure, but he knew better; Schuldich was in pain. 
    
    He rinsed Schuldich's mud caked hair before applying a large amount of shampoo on his head. He washed the hair thoroughly until it became a brilliant red gold river down Schuldich's back. He cleaned the German's face just as thoroughly. Pale skin began to glow again and pale bloodied lips began to regain its color again. Crawford remembered the way they pressed against his, making him long to relive that moment again. In frustration, Crawford stood and went to his room retrieve a towel for Schuldich.
    
    "B…rad…?" Schuldich's voice came out hoarse. Green eyes slid open. They narrowed to adjust to the glare of the bathroom light. Schuldich felt disoriented and began to panic. He was in a tub, naked, alone and he couldn't recognize his surrounding. He tried to use his telepathy but it wasn't there. Not even a trace of it was there anymore. The realization of that finally sunk in and he wanted to weep. 
    
    ***(taking over me)**

**Taking over me*******
    
    But then it came back in full force making his brain overload. Schuldich wanted to scream in pain but his voice refused to work. He gripped the rim of the tub until his knuckles were white and the cuts on his wrists bled again. He was choking in his own breath and voice. 
    
    Crawford came into the bathroom again. He dropped the towel and the robe he was carrying and rushed to the German's side. Almost immediately, the pain reduced. Schuldich reached out desperately for Crawford. The Oracle automatically offered his hand. The German clung to it and clutched it to his chest as close as possible. Crawford's hand was throbbing from the death grip that caused a lack of blood circulation. He peeled the gripping hands off his arm and proceeded to hug the shaking body. Schuldich was almost clawing at Crawford in his haste to kill off the pain. After a few moments, Schuldich's breathing began to regulate and his grip lessened. 
    
    Crawford lowered his barriers but the German ignored it, not wanting to share his pain. The American released Schuldich and made him lean back in the tub. He watched the tear streaked face. He felt remorseful and helpless; he felt distant. Crawford slicked the wet strands of red gold from the flushed face. He wanted to stop that so badly. So when he saw the delicate brows furrow in pain, he gave in to his whims.
    
    Crawford gently made Schuldich's head face him. Holding his face firmly so that the redhead doesn't slip away, Crawford closed in on the space in between. Schuldich was too weary to respond or protest. He pressed his lips to Schuldich, simultaneously laying his mind bare to the German. He wasn't trained to 'wrap' his mind around others' minds the way Schuldich always does. So the best he could do was to offer to Schuldich and wait for him to accept. 
    
    Schuldich was slow to accept, but Crawford was a patient man; when he wanted to be. He felt a reluctant pressure and a slight strain against his mind, sort of like a warning of what's to come. Schuldich gasped as he felt his mind being 'breached'. Crawford took the chance to slip in. He delved his tongue into Schuldich's sweet mouth. His senses were besieged by his warmth and familiarity. He lingered for a moment, savoring the feel of Schuldich before cajoling the redhead further. 
    
    The next moment was a rush of forces, splitting his brain in half and stretching his mental seams. His body went rigid against Schuldich's pliant one. He had to force himself not to clench his jaws and bite his own tongue. He wanted to rip himself away from the German but he fought against that as well. Instead he gripped the tub the exact same way Schuldich did while his other hand was clenched tightly into a bleeding fist behind the redhead's head. Just when he thought he was going to suffer from a mental breakdown, the pain eased and somewhat dissipated in between the two minds.
    
    Schuldich had begun to respond, tentatively. He pressed himself closer to Crawford, if that was indeed possible, kissing Crawford's stiffness away softly. Crawford gently pushed Schuldich away after a while, fearing that the German might suffer from some difficulty. The redhead drooped against his shoulder without a sound. It occurred to Crawford that Schuldich had fallen asleep on him.
    
    ***Can you know what I know and all we have.**
    
    **You saw me mourning my love for you and touched my hand.***
    
    Smiling slightly, he slipped his hand beneath Schuldich's knee and another supporting the frail German's back, he lifted the body out of the tub and onto the toilet seat. He grabbed the discarded towel and bathrobe, toweled dried the younger man as thoroughly as he could manage before wrapping him in the fluffy crème robe. Absently, he wondered about the towel and how it came to be in Crawford's closet and how fetching the redhead looked in it. 
    
    Decked in the crème robe, Schuldich was lowered onto the middle of the -currently- deep royal blue sheets. Crawford re-bandaged the wrists and all the other smaller wounds and smoothed on some cream for his bruises. Crawford then tucked Schuldich in and prepared to sleep on the couch again. But after half an hour of watching the German sleep and another half of an hour tossing and turning in his comparatively small couch, he gave up and decided to get some coffee. But before he could even get up, Schuldich actually woke up and sat in the middle of the king sized bed looking terribly lost and ruffled… and extremely delectable.
    
    "Bra…d?" Crawford actually sat up at the accented voice calling his name.
    
    "Hmm?" he said trying to sound as if he just woke up. 
    
    "The voices are back again," he said softly, trying to untangle himself from the sheets. Crawford suspected that he wanted to come to him. 
    
    "Stay there," Crawford said gruffly. When Schuldich made no point of listening to him, Crawford got out of the couch to stop him. By the time he got to the bedside, Schuldich's left foot was dangling out of the bed. 
    
    "I was going to come to you," Crawford remarked casually. He stopped beside his anxious German teammate, observing what his counterpart would do.
    
    Schuldich didn't say anything. He just shifted to the middle of the bed uncertainly. Crawford made a move to sit at the end, waiting for the redhead to make a move. And his patience was richly rewarded. Schuldich touched his hand that was pressed onto the mattress and pulled him close. When he was close enough to Schuldich's opinion, he laid his head on the pillows pulling Schuldich along with him. 
    
    "Let me share it," Crawford had said. He felt the redhead shake his head against his chest, which was still bare. 
    
    " That's not a request, Schuldich…It's an order," he said, voice gentle but not without that underlying firmness. 
    
    Reluctantly, Schuldich sat up and turned to look down on his leader. There was barely any light in that room, other than the bathroom light that was stealing into the room and the moonlight from Crawford's partially exposed window. But he could see the determination in the American's eyes. And he fulfilled his leader's silent command. He kissed Crawford with all his pent up passion but he was still careful not to leak any of his pain. _//Oh, how I have wanted to do this for ages.__ Ironic that I could barely enjoy it when I finally got the chance to.//_ 
    
    But that's not to say Schuldich didn't enjoy any of that contact. Despite the ringing pain, the sparks and fireworks still flew. The kiss still burned itself into his brain, as a matter of fact, the brief and few 'pain-killer' kisses he had with Crawford have already engraved themselves much deeper and stronger than the foreign thoughts and memories had. But that didn't mean he could let Crawford suffer at the expense of a few chaste kisses. So he held the barrier still. After a short battle of dominance, Crawford broke the kiss.
    
    "I mean it, Schuldich," he said, tone utterly exuding his command. Sighing, the younger man relented. He allowed Crawford to kiss him this time, cautiously releasing his barrier to avoid any mental shock on Crawford's behalf. He felt the pain seeping away as he was pushed into the soft down pillows and Crawford's tongue requested entry. 
    
    And silently, Crawford made a vow to himself that no matter what; he will rebuild that control again with Schuldich if life was to mean anything. And Schuldich just knew that: maybe, just maybe, life would be worth living again and Crawford will make things okay again.

***I knew you loved me then.***


End file.
